


Mister and Mister Jansson

by Peanut893



Series: Beautiful Humans [1]
Category: Beautiful Monsters
Genre: BDSM, Cute, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Human AU, Im not good at writing smut so we are keeping it to the bare minimum, M/M, Matthew is basically a stripper, Mob Boss AU, Smut, Tarrick is a club owner, both human, im sorry, no vamps and no incubi, non-magic au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-10-08 05:41:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10379724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peanut893/pseuds/Peanut893
Summary: A series of one-shots for Matthew Callahan and Tarrick, mostly fluff, some smut. Other characters included as background.





	1. How Matthew Met Tarrick

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own these characters, they belong to Jex Lane and are from his series, Beautiful Monsters.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matthew and Tarrick run into each other in the dead of night, sparking a little magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own these characters, they are owned by Jex Lane.

Matthew loitered around in the industrial district, late at night. Or early in the morning, however one chose to look at it. It was around five a.m. and the sun was just barely beginning to rise.

Insomnia was his inspiration for being out. The street was completely empty, then Matthew glanced down an alley absentmindedly to see a well-dressed man locking a side door and walking down the alley towards Matthew. The man sighed and ran a hand through his hair. 

"Rough night?" Matthew shouted, cupping a hand around his mouth.

The man glanced up sharply, a sly smile forming on his lips. It left Matthew's breathless. He was the most attractive man Matthew had ever seen, by far. 

"Nothing to trouble yourself with, sweetheart," he responded in a saccharine voice. "What do you say you come back tomorrow, and I'll be more inclined to talk?"

"What do you say I stay with you and we don't do any talking?" Matthew winked at the stranger as he approached. 

He placed an intoxicating hand on Matthew's broad chest. Even though Matthew was taller by more than a few inches, he was sure that the man could easily manhandle him against the wall. But the blond man turned and began to walk away.

"Until tomorrow," he called over his shoulder.  

Matthew smile lifted as he turned to watch a toned ass saunter away, shifting his coat with each step. Matthew shook his head, whistling a short note.

"Damn," he whispered.

He placed a hand on his chest where the stranger had touched him and noticed a slide irregularity in the fabric. He looked into his inside coat pocket to find a business card.

Tarrick Jansson

owner of _The Incubus_ nightclub

He flipped the card over and found a handwritten phone number on the back. 

_Fuck yes._

He tucked the card back into his pocket and continued his walk.

****

The next morning, Matthew woke up at his usual time of eleven. Working at a nightclub had its perks. Matthew was a dancer at a local club called  _Parasitic._ It was always dark in there. The customers were eternally dressed in black and wore fake fangs. Matthew might as well have been a waged escort. He sat with the customers, let them 'bite' at his neck, pretended to like it, and served them 'blood', otherwise known as vodka and food dye. But that was only when he was paid a hundred dollars, otherwise, Matthew was dancing in a cage. Most of the money went to the club, while he got a measly fifteen percent as tip.

The worst part was the outfit. White powder makeup and red lipstick, along with those ridiculous fake teeth. The clothes were simply horrid: a laced corset and skin-tight leather leggings. He hated laces. 

Lucky for him though, Matthew had already happened to secure the night off. He was excited to spend the night at that man, Tarrick's, club. He could already feel himself getting hard from the thought of it.

How would that blond hair look between his legs?

Matthew stood from his bed and got in the shower, tugging himself off efficiently. He came on the shower wall, very nearly calling that stranger's name. 

He cleaned off and got dressed in a comfortable pair of blue jeans, then went into his drab kitchen to pour himself a bowl of cereal. Cheerios, the plain kind. He finished off the bowl quickly, tossing in the sink for his roommate, Samantha, to wash.

"Sam," he called, going back into his room and getting changed into his workout clothes. "Sam!"

"What?"

"I'm going to the gym!" he pulled on his shirt and grabbed his gym bag. Matthew checked to see that the water bottle, deoderant, towel, and change of clothes were all in it.

"Oh, do we have a date tonight?" She came out of her own room, where she had been watching Netflix since three a.m. the previous day.

"Maybe," Matthew shrugged, smirking at her as he walked past towards the door.

She spotted the bowl in the sink and scowled at him. "Wash your own dishes."

"Can't, already gone," he called as he closed the apartment door behind himself.

He heard an exasperated sigh as he began to descend the stairs from their fifth-floor walk-up. Matthew jumped out onto the sidewalk and made his way to the gym.

****

At around eleven p.m., Matthew left his apartment in club getup, wearing a tight black, long-sleeved shirt and a pair of low leather skinny jeans. They were tough to get into, but it was worth it. Sam had nearly fainted at the sight of him. The waist line was low enough that a wandering hand would not have to go too far to grasp his cock.

He also threw on some eyeliner and mascara, for effect. It was not too noticeable, not until one was right in his face was it visible, but it was thick enough to make his eyes look darker and wider. The funny thing about Matthew's eyes is that they were silver. Not grey or light blue, but actual silver. He had never met anyone with the same eye color. People at _Parasitic_ would always ask him if he were wearing contacts. They laughed and chalked it up to vanity when ever he said no.

With his outfit complete, Matthew finally left the apartment. It took him only twenty minutes to walk to the club, given that he knew exactly where it was. Not only from his walk the previous evening, but because _The Incubus_ was the biggest competition on the club scene in town. Despite _Parasitic_ 's very specific demographic, it was enjoyed by a whole host of people. The same people that were drawn to their arch rival. 

This rivalry made the whole situation even that more exciting for Matthew. A possible dalliance with the man who owned a competitor business to the one he worked for? It was simply scandalous. 

When he arrived at the building, he found that the line stretched around the block. He sighed and waited in line for a while. After checking his Twitter, Instagram, and Snapchat, he gave up and stepped out of his spot, which was immediately taken by the woman behind him. He walked to the front of the line, earning himself scalding looks from those in line.

The bouncer, a big guy in a classic all black uniform, looked him up and down.

"You on the list?" he growled.

And in a moment of desperation, Matthew pulled out Tarrick's business card. "No, but I have this." 

The bouncer scrutinized it carefully, turning it over to examine the number in the back, before opening the velvet rope and allowing Matthew through. He handed the card back to him, and grabbed his arm before he walked in.

"Go to bar, ask for Hiroto and tell him that the General is waiting for you. He'll show you where to go."

"Thanks, Prescott," Matthew said, eyeing the name on his tag.

The bouncer growled and closed the rope.

Matthew jogged to the door and opened it carefully. His ears were immediately assaulted with the pounding of bass and the barely percivable buzz of conversation. He went into the club and shut out the cold night air behind him. 

It was setup so that the intial entrance was raised above the actual dance floor, which was huge. On either side of the dais were tall table with no seats and booths placed in the wall. Past those were a set of stairs, one on each side, that led up to a balcony and more seating. The balconies were connected by a slim bridge, which also led further back into what Matthew assumed was a closed VIP area. There was a DJ on a stage at the opposite end, with the bar being under the left-hand balcony. The floors were made of thick glass, with blue lights shining up from underneath them. 

The dance floor was packed, with absolutely no room between people. Matthew observed this carefully. He never usually liked crowds, especially ones as thick as this, but the atmosphere was infectious. He already found himself wanting to join in, jumping in time with music. 

But he made his way over to the bar, with much difficulty. He shoved through the crowd without necessarily caring who he elbowed. By the time he was halfway there, people started to notice him because of his stature and moved out of the way. 

He reached the bar, also glass, and set his elbows on the surface to wait for a bartender. Several people tried to prise him out of the way so that they could order, but he didn't budge an inch. Eventually, a young blonde approached, throwing a towel over her shoulder.

"What can I get you?" she asked. Her accent sound foreign, possibly Norwegian.

"Hiroto," he responded simply.

She held up a finger and walked back down the bar, much to the chagrin of the people behind him. She put her hand on the shoulder of the other bartender, whispering in his ear. She pointed down at Matthew, then took over what the person he assumed was Hiroto had been doing. 

The young Japanese man sauntered forwards. He leaned forwards on the bar and placed a hand on Matthew's arm.

"What can I get you, hottie?" he winked foxily.

"Apparently the General is looking for me?" Matthew asked.

Hiroto's smile widened, revealing abnormally sharp canines. 

"Wait here." He made a quick brandy then left from behind the bar.

Matthew waited for the small man to make his way over, expecting to wait for a while it at least find him with an empty glass and a wet shirt. Suprisingly, the man seemingly teleported next to him.

"This way." He led Matthew out of the dance floor and up onto one of the balconies. 

Matthew glanced down at the swirling mob below him, observing the joy. 

They crossed onto the small bridge and into the VIP lounge. The smell of sex hit him as soon as he walked in, then the sight.

On almost every surface, there were people fucking. Two women were on the couch, with their dresses at their hips and their underwear at their ankles, they fingered each other and kissed passionately.

Two men and a woman sitting up in the corner, the woman in the middle and one of them behind her kissing her neck and pumping rapidly. The other in front and shoving his fingers into her mouth and kneading her breast as he moved a little slower than the other man. She was in the throes of passion, an arm thrown behind on one man and a hand clawing at the other as she slobbered on his hand. They were all completely naked.

A man and a woman on a loveseat, with him still in a suit and only unzipped enough for her, completely naked, to ride him. Her breasts bounced jovially as he grasped her hips.

Two men fucking on the floor, one giving fellatio to the other as he slowly pulled himself off and used his other hand dance around the man's hole. The man receiving had his head thrown back and his eyes closed, mouth open. He had his hands on the other's head, holding him down as his hips bucked with orgasm. They were both naked.

If it weren't for the sound-proof door, he would have already known that they were all moaning, very loudly. The woman in the threesome was actually screaming, with pleasure of course.

Hiroto ignored them all and contined around into another room, with a thankfully also sound-proof door. Matthew was rock fucking hard after seeing and hearing all of that action. It was very obvious, as he wasn't wearing any underwear and his pants were skin-tight.

Hiroto handed him the brandy, winking and eyeing Matthew's erection, and left him in the room alone. At least, he thought that he was alone, until he glanced around and saw the blond man sitting at a desk.

"Sit down," he ordered. 

Matthew's dick shivered from the authoritative voice, already leaking. He rushed to obey setting the glass on the desk and sitting in a plush chair. The man slowly slid a coaster to where the glass was and placed it underneath.

"What did you want to speak about?" Tarrick didn't seem to remember him. 

Matthew cocked an eyebrow.

"You told me to come back, today, and you would be more inclined to speak."

"Yes, I know," he rolled his eyes, "so what do you want?"

"You." 

It was Tarrick's turn to look confused. "You don't want to talk business?"

"What business?" Matthew asked. 

Despite their conversation, his boner was still raging.

"Nevermind," Tarrick said. He scrutinized Matthew for a moment before that sly smile came back into his face. "Ah, I know you. You work for Parasitic. You're a dancer."

"I've never seen you around the club before." Matthew leaned forward to rub his cock along his jeans.

"I've been around." He paused, then continued. "I'd like to offer you a job. Here."

Matthew didn't know what to say. At the beginning of the night, he was barely sure that he should have gone, now he was being offered a job.

"You're very talented," Tarrick intoned. "I want you to work for me."

"But I've already got a job."

"You'll get fifty percent of your tips and I'll raise your current salary by fifteen percent." 

Matthew sensed that there was something more he wanted to say. "And?"

"And, you get to fuck the boss. Well, actually the boss gets to fuck you, but you get the idea." Tarrick deadpanned his entire speech, but a barely noticeable smile was edging itself along his cheek.

Matthew stood from his chair and walked around the desk. He tossed a leg over Tarrick's lap and sat down easily, feeling the other man's erection against his thigh. He almost balked at how huge he was. 

"Agreed," he said as he leaned in to kiss Tarrick. 

The blond man picked him up as soon as their lips met, which suprised Matthew, given that he could probably touch the ground by extending his foot slightly. Tarrick set him down on the desk, on his back, and slipped his fingers underneath the tight material of Matthew's pants. He edged the hem of it down, allowing Matthew's cock to spring free. Tarrick kept pushing it until the leather was pooled at his ankles. He leaned down over Matthew, chest to chest, and shoved his tongue into the other man's mouth as he began to pump him. 

Matthew moaned luxuriously as he felt warmth pool in his belly and hand running over his stomach. Tarrick unzipped himself from his pants and, again, Matthew nearly balked at how large the other man was. Matthew was no pipsqueak by a long shot, being actually fairly far above average. But this was a huge dick. Long and thick, Tarrick could not even grasp it fully in his hand, a few veins standing out in stark contrast. He let go of Matthew and pumped himself slowly, using the other hand to reach down into a desk drawer and pull out lube. 

Matthew would have laughed, if he hadn't been heavily breathing already. "Always keep lube in your office?"

"A desk is for supplies," he answered simply. 

The man glazed his hand and Matthew's ass in the oily substance.

 _Good_ , Matthew thought, _there is no way I can take him otherwise._ He spread his thighs as far as the would go, the leather around his legs restricing him from going very far.

Tarrick ran a finger down the crack, causing Matthew to shudder with anticipation. He ran his hand down his own stomach, fingers twitching. 

Tarrick slapped his hand away and shoved at least three fingers inside of Matthew, causing him to gasp and groan in pain. Which only served to make his cock twitch.

"Did I say that you could touch yourself?" Tarrick said, curling his fingers into  _that_ spot.

Matthew gripped the side of the desk, his knuckles turning white and nails scrating into the surface. His thighs trembled with lust and his dick leaked precum.

"Well? Answer me." Tarrick squooze his cock, continuing to pump his fingers.

"No, sir," Matthew said, already guessing the game.

Tarrick smirked, deciding to step it up a notch. "Master," he growled. Tarrick squooze harder to punctuate his point. At the same time, he leaned closer to Matthew, and licked his own lips.

"No, Master," Matthew moaned. He closed his eyes, trying to cut down on sensory overload.

"That's what I thought," Tarrick intoned, releasing Matthew's cock. He pumped his fingers further into the man on the desk, curling them slightly.

Matthew shuddered with each bit of movement. He desperately wanted to drop his thighs, but he was afraid of what Tarrick would do if he did.

"You clean?" Tarrick asked, panting only slightly. 

"I thought you said a desk was for supplies," Matthew's mouth said without his permission.

Almost immediately, his head jerked to the side as a hand connected with his cheek. By some impossible measure, his sick stood even more at attention.

"No sass. Answer my question."

 _Parasitic_ made him get tested for STDs every month. Just in case. It took Matthew a minute to form these thoughts. Tarrick didn't make it any easier for him, continually hit his prostate and smirking as he watched Matthew struggle into coherency. 

Instead of wasting effort forming words, Matthew simply nodded.

"Say it."

Matthew groaned, throwing an arm dramatically over his eyes. He tried to fuck himself on Tarrick's fingers, as the man had stopped moving in punishment.

"Y-yes, Master" Matthew stuttered.

Tarrick resumed the torture of his fingers, scissoring, until Matthew's entire body was shuddering and his head was thrown back.

"I'm-"

Tarrick suddenly drew his fingers out, making Matthew groan.

He heard Tarrick take something else out of a drawer and felt something go around his cock. 

"Oh God, th-that's not a-" Matthew glanced down at the cock ring. He groaned, mentally trying to prepare himself for what was to come.

Tarrick poured more of the lube over his own cock. While Matthew was staring down at his bright red cock, irritated and twitching. He could feel orgasm just a few steps away, he was right on the edge of it. Tarrick finished with the lubricant and lined himself up with Matthew's hole. He pushed himself in gradually, not stopping, even as Matthew bit his finger hard enough to draw blood. 

"Sweet Christ," he groaned.

"Only speak when you are spoken to." 

Matthew nodded. 

Tarrick grabbed his thighs, squeezing them appreciatively, and opened them up farther, managing to force his pants off of one foot. Matthew was grateful to relax his legs, until Tarrick pushed them farther than it seemed they would go. His thighs were flush against his chest and Tarrick was still pushing his calves until he cried out in genuine pain. Tarrick stopped immediately and began to replace pain with pleasure, pulling out until just the tip was still in, then pushing all the way back in. He brushed his prostate and sent a shudder through him.

Matthew moaned loudly, immediately clapping his hand over his mouth.

Tarrick removed Matthew's hand from his own mouth and leaned over top of him. He held Matthew's hands above his head and watched his face contort as he fucked him.

"I want to hear you." Tarrick whispered. He kissed Matthew's neck, biting at the sensitive skin he found there.

Matthew barely struggled against him, him, his fingers tickling Tarrick as he wiggled them. 

"Take it off, please," he groaned, closing his eyes. 

"Not yet," Tarrick squooze his wrists, and moved his mouth to Matthew's ear. "Leave your hands here. If you move, I'll leave it on."

Tarrick kissed his still-clothed shoulder as he stood up, watching Matthew's hands closely. 

He stood fully erect, still pumping into Matthew, and grabbed his hips. He brought Matthew's body back and forth, complementing his thrusts. Tarrick skillfully hit Matthew's prostate each time. Heat built in his stomach as he continued to fuck him. His only response to his own orgasm was closing his eyes and his breath noticeably speeding up.

The entire time, Matthew had done as he was asked, keeping his wrists pinned to the wood beneath him. Despite the strain it obviously out on him, he has followed Tarrick's instructions to the letter.

"Good," Tarrick whispered. He pulled off the cock ring and swiped a thumb over the slit.

Almost immediately, Matthew orgasmed. He would later describe it as the best orgasm of his life. His back arched off the desk. Three waves of the epitome of pleasure ran over him like a semi-truck. A stream of semen even landed near his Adam's apple. The rest landed on his black shirt, much to his chagrin. 

Tarrick pulled out of him as he finished. He sat back in the desk chair, allowing himself to relax and breathe. Matthew stayed on the desk, eyes closed and legs dangling. His pushed his breathe out and pulled it back in laboriously. 

"Goddamn," he finally got out. "We should do that again."

Tarrick eventually nodded. Plainly stating, "Agreed." 


	2. Bedtime Stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It gets kinda fluffy, but really, how fluffy can this series get?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suppose I should correct myself from the last chapter; this is more like a series of vignettes than one-shots. Its the same AU, but it doesn't really have a plot line.  
> Btw there is some implications of noncon at the beginning of this one; skip this chapter if you don't want to read that kind of thing. Its not intense tho, just sexual harassment and a bit of groping, so nothing like full on non-con.  
> Sorry it took me so long to update, but it's currently exam and I'm taking IB exams as well (which take two days to complete). That's not an excuse, I know. I'll make up for it by giving all three of you tooth-rotting fluff, then more smut (I promise).  
> Shout out to Cherik4ever, for prompting me to continue writing this, I didn't think that anyone was actually reading this!!
> 
> I do not own these characters, they belong to Jex Lane.

"What the hell are you doing?" Despite his tone, he spread his arms and allowed Matthew to sit down.

"Dancing. What does it look like I'm doing?" Matthew spoke easily, a smile playing at his lips. He ghosted his hands over Tarrick's hips. He ran his own hips across Tarrick's thigh, slowly undulating his hips.

"Trying to distract me," he sighed. "I don't even know why I try to work down here." Tarrick tried to gathered up the file he had been trying to work on before Matthew had come over. 

"So you don't have to wait for your drinks, and so you can watch me dance," Matthew smirked, meaning forward from his perch on Tarrick's lap to nip at his ear. "You do like it, don't you?" Not even Matthew was entirely sure what exactly he was talking about.

The blond man's eyes grew dark. "My office, five minutes." He said, placing his hands on Matthew's hips with a commanding grip. A thumb teased at his sick. Tarrick seemed to have to push it out from between his teeth, but his command made Matthew's smirk grow even wider.

"Yes, Master."

He climbed down off of Tarrick's lap, adjusting his spandex, and started to go back to his pole when he felt a sudden hand on his outfit. It pulled him back to Tarrick's table and then another hand was on his jaw. Twisting him around, sudden lips crashed into him. Teeth were holding his bottom lip in place as a tongue invaded his mouth, sweeping against his own tongue and thrusting wholly into his mouth. He could feel his lip start bleeding, which he drew attention to with a whine.

Finally, Tarrick pulled away, though still holding Matthew's lip in his teeth. He let it go slowly, licking some of the blood up in the process, and looked the other man fully in the eyes.

"See you there." Tarrick drew his hands away and walked up to his office slowly, not once turning around to see Matthew still standing there dumbstruck like a virginal teenager.

Matthew had not noticed this the last time he had been to Tarrick's office, but there as a secondary door that led down to what was called the GoGo floor, given that there were mostly male strippers.

Luckily, it was still early, so not many people were at the club yet to see Tarrick's little exhibition. 

The only people there were Prescott, at the front of the club, Hiroto, who was manning the bar, and a few other strippers, each with their own customers to take care of.

One of them was a woman with green tattoos all over her body. The symbols were strange and interesting to look at, none of them the same as the next. Watching her dance was mesmerizing, as the ink seemed to shift and swirl over her skin, glowing in the dull light of the club. She was currently taking off her bejeweled bra about as sexually as one could possibly take off a bra. Silva, was her name. The other stripper was a young man, unknown to Matthew. He was wearing an outfit similar to Silva's, a corset covered in rhinstones and a pair of thigh highs, complete with garders. He was, for some reason, barefoot, but it worked for him.

The strippers got to choose their outfits here, unlike at _Parasitic_ , where they all wore black with red accents. Too much lace, in Matthew's opinion. Matthew preferred his new work uniform: a pair of golden spandex briefs and a gold bowtie, with Aphrodite sandals, gold, of course, on his feet. At least he didn't have to wear fake fangs and nipple clamps in this one. He wouldn't even mind if they put him in a corset, as long as none of the customers asked him to suck their blood. Despite the fact that his erection from Tarrick's little show was more obvious with the spandex, he didn't care. It would probably get him more tips.

As he climbed back onto his stage, he began counting the minutes until he could climb those stairs to the VIP lounge.  He grabbed the pole and swirled around it, making sure to stick his ass out. He took to dancing for the next for minutes, trying not to think about all of the wonderful things Tarrick was going to do to him. Matthew squatted in front of the pole, spreading his legs so the older man in front of him could get a good view of his bulge.

The man gestured with his finger for Matthew to come forward, simultaneously reaching for his back pocket. Matthew leaned forward onto his hands and knees and crawled until he was at the edge of the stage. He draped his legs over the edge and leaned back. The man smiled smugly as he tucked a few dollars into Matthew's briefs. Matthew was about to stand back up to go back to the pole, when the man grabbed his bulge. He wasn't shocked, he was stripper. People would always try to touch him. But now this guy looked creepy, with his tongue peeking out from between his gapped, yellow teeth and a carnal gleam to his beady eyes. Features that Matthew hadn't noticed due to the low lights of the club.

He pulled away as smoothly as possible. 

"No touching," he said, wagging his finger.

The man's nasty smile fell. 

"Then why did that other guy get to put his hands all over you?" he said, his voice poisonous.

"Because that other guy owns the club and he's allowed to do what he wants." Matthew was starting to get back to his pole, he once again was yanked backwards.

"Well I'm a paying customer," suddenly Matthew was in his lap. "So I am also allowed to do what I want."

He shoved a hand into Matthew's spandex, kneading his ass. 

"Let go of me!" Matthew nearly screamed. He knew that no one else would hear him. Tarrick was in a sound-proof room, Hiroto was basically basically deaf to anything more than five feet away due to the music, and the other strippers were too occupied with their own clients to help out the new guy.

"Come on, sweetheart, you'll like it," the man whispered greasily in his ear as he sent a probing finger between Matthew's cheeks.

_No, no, no, no, no._

He tried to push the man away, but he had a firm grip on Matthew's hip. 

He could hear his blood roaring in his ears, growing louder and louder as the finger drew closer to a single point. Until a strong voice cut through the noise.

"Matthew, I fucking told you to be up the-" Tarrick paused as he took in the scene before him. He cleared his throat and took another step forward. Matthew could feel his face burning. "Is there something going on here?" he said in his manager voice.

"Yeah, you need to learn to control your whores, this one tried to say no to me." The man still had his hand down Matthew's shorts. He was speaking with the confidence of a white, suburban soccer-mom to a store manager. As if Matthew were an unsatisfactory product.

"Matthew," Tarrick said, still in his manager voice, with a beckoning finger. "Come here."

He didn't seriously think that this was his fault, did he? It should have been clear that the man was overstepping certain boundaries provided to a paying customer. 

Matthew approached, his head down slightly, hoping that whatever conversation Tarrick wanted to have, it could be at least be had quietly.

"Go get dressed and meet me in my office." Tarrick stared Matthew down until he lowered his eyes and began to retreat to the locker room.

"Get up," he heard Tarrick say to the other man. 

Matthew turned around in time to see Tarrick bringing his phone up to his ear.

"GoGo," he said simply into the speaker. He hung up and put it back into his pocket.

"Now, tell me what happened, and we can get this all sorted out."

Matthew halted in his steps. He wanted to hear what this fucker had to say. 

"I gave the stripper some money, then he didn't show any gratitude to me, so I grabbed him." The man was still supremely confident in what he was saying, despite the fact that Tarrick was now speaking to him as if he were a child.

Just then, someone else walked in.

"Ah, Prescott. Could you please escort this fuckhead outside and make sure he never steps another goddamn foot in my club again? Thank you." 

The man was whipping his head back and forth between Tarrick and the brick wall about to drag him bodily out of the club.

"Wait, I-" but he was suddenly out of the room and his words were unable to be heard. 

Tarrick turned around to see Matthew still standing there. "Get dressed."

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

"But-"

"Now, Matthew." Tarrick stomped away to his office.

Matthew huffed as he walked to the locker room. It was his second week working there and yet here he was, surely about to get fired. And he had only managed to have sex with Tarrick once. For some reason, every other advance he had attempted had been smoothly rebuffed. He had always felt Tarrick watching him from afar. Whether he was dancing on the GoGo floor, or on the main stage next to the DJ. Those piercing eyes were ever on him. 

He tore open his locker, allowing his gym bag to fall out to the floor. He picked out a pair of sweatpants and a pullover. If he was going to get fired, he may as well be comfortable. Matthew stripped off his bowtie and spandex, replacing the latter with a pair of boxer-briefs. He angrily ripped off the sandals, replacing them with a pair of tennis shoes. He threw his outfit into his gym bag and departed the locker room.

He was debating on whether or not he should actually go up to Tarrick's office, when the man himself was descending the stairs towards Matthew. 

"Are you always late? Come on," he said. 

He followed Tarrick out of the room and on to the main dance floor. It was already starting to get crowded, the tables were all already packed and the balconies were filling up.

"Hiroto," he shouted over the music, approaching the bar. "You're in charge until close. Give the bar to someone else."

Hiroto nodded his assent and walked out from behind the bar. 

Matthew followed Tarrick out of the building, to see the man who had molested Matthew peeling himself off the sidewalk from where Prescott had thrown him. He was drunkenly stumbling upwards.

"You can't do this to me," he was shouting. 

Half of the people in line already had their phones out and were laughing as Prescott easily pushed him back down.

He saw Matthew and Tarrick leaving the club, but was too busy trying to stand up and not to vomit to chase them.

"Fuck you, slut!" he shouted

Matthew flicked the guy off and continued to follow the blond in front of him down to the garage across the street. He followed begrudingly the entire time, although his interest was piqued. He had no idea where Tarrick was taking him or why he was taking him anywhere. The incident in the club happened all the time, so that definitely wasn't the reason. He remained lost in his thought until Tarrick pulled him out of it.

"Where the fuck are you going?"

Matthew stopped and turned to where Tarrick was standing in front of a sleek black Mustang, his hand on the handle and a set of keys jingling on his fingers.

"Huh?"

Tarrick only sighed and opened the door, sitting in the driver's seat. Matthew could see him speaking to himself through the windshield.

Matthew walked back to the car and got in the passenger seat, tossing his bag in the back.

"Where are we going?"

Tarrick didn't answer and simply started up the car. He pulled out of the garage and onto the street. He sped past the other cars, weaving in and out of traffic.

"If you wanted to kill me, there is a much simpler way to do it." Matthew quickly buckled his seat belt, noticing that Tarrick wasn't wearing one.

Tarrick didn't answer this one either. Choosing instead to swerve quickly onto another street. Matthew sighed at his disinterest and watched the city lights go past them. 

A few more minutes passed before they slowed to a crawl, compared to their previous speed, and turned into another garage. They left the car and went to a nearby elevator. Tarrick swipped a key card and the doors opened and closed, taking them up smoothly. The elevator was covered in glass, so Matthew had the option on whether to look at Tarrick or himself. He choose the safer option.

Matthew still had makeup on. Golden glitter sprinkled his face and gold lipstick was heavy on his lips. His eye shadow was dark grey and his eye lashes were thick with black mascara. Luckily, he think he had packed some makeup remover in his bag. 

Gold was always his favorite look. It was striking and unexpected, when going into a strip club to see a golden boy. Plus the aesthetic worked wonders on his bone structure.

He had other outfits, of course. The classics: cowboy, firefighter, policofficer, doctor, American flag etc. As well as some more obscure ones, like the golden boy, Greek god, geisha, etc. He enjoyed being a stripper, or exotic dancer, whatever one called it. It made good money and was fun. He made people happy with what he did, no matter what people called him. Slut, whore, it all rolled off his well-built armor. 

The doors opened on an extravangant suite. A black granite fireplace sat snugly in the white wall, across from a well-kept leather loveseat. Next to the chair, was a warm-colored wooden side table with a small lamp on it. Facing the fireplace was a large, L-shaped couch. It was a dark brown color, and appeared to be extremely uncomfortable. To be expected from a hard ass like Tarrick. Above the fireplace, was a flat screen televsion. There were five other path leading off of the main open-floor plan. Four plain white doors and pair of French doors. A full kitchen spanned the length of the apartment, from the wall to the opposite window, where the entire city could be seen.

"Wow," Matthew simply stated.

Tarrick grunted in response and hung the suit jacket he was wearing over a chair at the island bar and walked forward into the apartment. Matthew admired the way his dress shirt stretched over his biceps, looking almost to burst. He swallowed carefully and regretted his decision to wear sweatpants.

"You can wipe off your makeup in the bathroom," he gestured to one of the plain white doors, "then come into the bedroom."

Now Matthew was extremely curious as to what was going to happen. Now it seemed to him as if they were going to get it on. Earlier he was under the strongly held belief that he was going to be fired. But whatever was coming to him, Matthew wanted to make sure it was fortuitous, so he did as he was told. He made his way over to the bathroom, closing the door behind him and plunging the space into darkness. He flicked on the light to discover that the bathroom was huge. A gigantic tub sat in the middle of the tiled room, with an elaborately decorated spout over it. A glass-walled shower was in the corner, also large. And a mirror spanned the entire length of one wall. 

"Christ," Matthew muttered, taking it all in. 

He rummaged around in his bag, tearing his eyes away from the opulence around him. His hand finally connected with the remover kit and he pulled it out. Makeup was where a good portion of his paycheck went, so of course, the remover was too quality. It took only a few minutes to get most of it off, but there was still some glitter on his cheeks. He evntually gave up on the glitter, sighing, and went out to the bedroom, which joined directly with the bathroom. He was pretty sure the latter room alone was the size of his apartment with Sam.

Tarrick was already waiting for him, removing the last of his clothing and tossing into a hamper hidden behind a large dresser.

_Sweet Jesus._

This was the first time he had seen Tarrick naked and by God he was beautiful. If his cock had been magnificent, then the rest of him was a masterpiece. Perfectly sculpted and muscular, his physique left almost nothing to be desired.

"Warn a man, Christ." Matthew had to look away, almost blushing, while Tarrick laughed at him.

"Like what you see? Oh, nevermind, I see you do." Tarrick laughed again, gesturing at Matthew's prominent erection.

Once again, he regreted wearing sweatpants. 

Trying to change subject, Matthew cleared his throat. 

"Where can I put my shoes?" 

"By the bed, next to the door."

Matthew kicked off his shoes, then walked towards Tarrick. 

"Straighten them."

The command made Matthew's cock twitch. He did as he was told, embarassingly squatting down to do it, which aomehow only made him harder. He cleared his throat, for what felt like the hundredth time that night and went back towards his Master.

He reached forward to kiss Tarrick, only to find empty space. The blond man had already gone to the bed and was pulling back the covers to lay down.

"Lay down," he said.

Matthew, again without argument, went to the other side of the bed and pulled back the covers. 

"You really are very obedient, aren't you?"

"I suppose," Matthew replied, blusing even further.

Tarrick only snorted in response. 

He finally lay down, joined by Matthew a few moments later. Then, once the rustling of the covers was done, silence.

"I used to be a stripper, you know," Tarrick said, shattering the emptiness.

"Really?" He certainly looked like he could be a stripper, meaning he had the body for it, but his attitude seemed off. Matthew could only ever imagine Tarrick in charge. "Were you a dominatrix?"

"No," there was a whisper of laughter in his voice. "I was a GoGo dancer, like you. At _Parasitic_." He paused, looking over to see Matthew's reaction. "My mentor sold it to me when I turned twenty, knew I would be an expert in the ways of running a proper strip joint. On how to keep the patrons and the dancers happy."

"You're joking, right? I mean, no offense, but you seem to high and mighty to be a GoGo dancer." 

"No."

Then more silence. 

"I worked for something and I got it. I didn't let anyone get in my way." He paused, leaning over Matthew to turn out the lamp on his side. Matthew reveled in the scent of him. Indescribably masculine and beautiful. "I remember one time, I was giving a private dance, and this guy tried to jerk me off. I slapped him and got out of there. Only for my mentor to send me back in and apologize to him, by way of a free partner act with a friend of mine. Another stripper, Rosaline. He enjoyed it, needless to say." There was rustling as Tarrick shifted around. "I would never allow anything like that to happen to any of my dancers. You will never be forced to do anything you don't want to do, but I won't forbid you from doing what you want for money."

There was a sudden hand on Matthew's throat. He gasped and tried to prise it off, but the grip was too tight. 

"But know that I am the only one who gets to fuck you." The hand was removed and Matthew pulled in a breath, coughing laboriously. The darkness then seemed oppresive, more like a suffocating wool blanket than the simple sheet of night it was before.

"Goodnight, Matthew."

There was one last rustle as Tarrick shifted again, then slow breaths. 

Matthew spent the next hour, he was sure, trying to work through what had just happened. His thoughts faded into nonsensical silence as he fell asleep.

 


End file.
